


Shinsenvember (à la Joui)

by joyofthejoui



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Gen, shinsenvember
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-01-29 12:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 10,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12630621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyofthejoui/pseuds/joyofthejoui
Summary: Drabbles and short stories written for theShinsenvember Challenge. Focused on the characters and the history, no shipping.





	1. That Pale Blue Haori

“Yes, we know. Pale blue shows up every speck of dirt. Not to mention blood. Do you think no one’s mentioned THAT before?” 

“I just thought maybe a darker colour would be easier to keep clean, and we wouldn’t have to do as much laundry.” Poor Souma looked as though he wanted to disappear under Captain Nagakura’s withering scorn but he stood his ground. 

“Kid, you wanted to join the Shinsengumi, that jacket is our brand. People see a flash of blue in the corner of their eye, it reminds them to be on their best behaviour. Got that?”

“I understand, sir” said Souma resignedly.

“Keep up the good work with the laundry.”

He found a more sympathetic ear among the Inspectors.

“It’s not the washing that’s hard, Yamazaki-san.” 

“Yes it is,” interrupted the other page, Nomura Risaburo.

Souma frowned at him. “It’s hard work. But we know what we’re doing. Yukimura-senpai has been showing us all the tricks for getting out stains. But sewing back on the sleeves after they’re cleaned …”

“He stabbed his hand with a needle,” Nomura supplied. “And Yukimura-senpai’s been gone out all day, so …”

“We were thinking, Yamazaki-san, you know about surgery, and sewing up people, so would you please show us how to stitch the sleeves back on?” The two pages bowed deeply in making their desperate request.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so from doctor of the Shinsengumi to Tailor of the Shinsengumi. Of course he helped them. 
> 
> This came into my mind when I read about how haori and kimono sleeves were taken off for laundering then sewed back on. Also, life would be so great if everyone could just have their own Souma Kazue.


	2. Bakemono

**Print by Utagawa Kunisada**

_How can you ask what an oni is?_

_After all you are one just like us._

The words of her would-be kidnappers echoed in Chizuru’s mind. They didn’t make much sense. Certainly, those men were exceptionally agile and strong, and yes, her healing abilities were unusual, but she knew what oni were supposed to look like. They were  _monsters_  with horns and distorted bestial faces, not unusually dressed young men who could jump over walls.

Then again, she might have missed something important. Come to think of it, her father had always discouraged stories of ghosts and goblins within their home. Did oni take on other forms? Did their wounds heal immediately? Were there stories about them that everyone but her knew? She was afraid to ask the Shinsengumi captains; they might push to know why she was asking.

Under the circumstances, the bookseller they passed on their rounds seemed the best option. The Shinsengumi captains often let her linger there while they were out, and either out of kindness or a fear of the Shinsengumi, the proprietor gave her a special discount.

“Do you have any books about  _bakemono_?” she asked the bookseller in an uncharacteristically low voice. Captain Okita was across the street talking to another shopkeeper, but she didn’t want to chance being overheard.

“Of course,” the bookseller seemed puzzled at her manner, but directed her to a stack of books. “Women and kids can’t get enough weird tales.”

Chizuru felt offended for a moment as a woman, then as a supposed kid. Most men didn’t read heavy intellectual literature either, judging by all the erotic picture books on sale!

She picked up the first of the books, a guidebook to strange spirits and creatures, and began to flip through the pages looking for an entry on oni. Tanuki, kitsune, humans with long necks or no faces, a spirit who took the form of a child carrying a tray of tofu - she wondered if Captain Saitou had heard of that one … Oh, here was an oni, a monster wrapped in a loin cloth of tiger’s skin, and brandishing a club.  That didn’t help at all.

Turning the page, she found a small pamphlet nestled within the book. It had no illustrations. The title read  _Kwaidan Joui._

Strange stories about expelling the barbarians?

She heard a gasp from the bookseller. “You don’t want that,” he said quickly, reaching to take the pamphlet from her. Despite her curiosity, she let him take it from her. She wasn’t one to start confrontations.

“She may not, but I  _very_  much want to see it.” She was startled by Captain Okita’s voice at her shoulder. “Would you please hand me the pamphlet?”

The bookseller was shaking as he complied. “It’s not one of mine, sir,” he said. “I don’t know how it got there.”

Okita was studying the pamphlet. There was a small smile on his face. “This is interesting. I might keep it as a souvenir. How much are you selling it for?”

“It’s not mine, so you may take it,” the bookseller answered. “I lend some of my books out, and someone must have left this in – “

Okita waved him away. “All right. You can make excuses when you’ve actually been accused of something. It isn’t a strange place to find a story about oni, is it?”

The man hung his head. “Yes sir. Thank you.”

Okita didn’t offer any explanation after they’d moved on. So, despite her trepidation, Chizuru steeled herself to ask.

“Okita-san?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why was that man trying to hide that pamphlet?”

“It’s a political pamphlet. Written by a Choshu man. It was quite all right to circulate around the city  _last year_  but now who wants to be associated with that trash?”

“I thought you said it was a story about oni.”

He laughed. “You’re too innocent, Chizuru. It’s a very boring story where the oni are foreigners, and Raikō and his retainers defending Kyoto from the oni are Sonnou Joui ronin. It’s a call to arms.”

“Oh. I see.” She didn’t entirely understand the situation, but it didn’t sound as though the bookseller should suffer for such a small thing. “I don’t think that man should be punished for having it.”

“Don’t worry. I told him, it’s just my souvenir.”

“Of what?” 

“I bet the the author’s dead now. At the Hamaguri Gate, or up on Mount Tennou. Maybe even at the Ikedaya. And if I didn’t personally kill him, I killed his comrades.”

“And that makes it your souvenir,” Chizuru restated the sentence with a tone of slight disbelief.

“Well, doesn’t that make me one of the oni in the story?” Okita’s eyes twinkled. He tapped the pamphlet. “We can’t all be storybook heroes, Chizuru. Got to take pride in our achievements as oni.” 

She laughed in spite of herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In his memoirs, Itou Hirobumi mentioned that Choshu leader Kusaka Genzui had written a political pamphlet called _Kwaidan Joui_ , which was a story about yokai as a political allegory. I actually don’t know what the real contents were, but defending Kyoto from oni [(as in the old stories](http://yokai.com/shutendouji/)) seems like it’d make sense. 
> 
> Kusaka died in the Kinmon no Hen/Hamaguri Rebellion, committing seppuku after being wounded. 
> 
> The Tofu yokai mentioned is really odd, and [may have originated as an advertisement for a tofu shop](https://hyakumonogatari.com/2012/03/12/tofu-kozo-the-tofu-boy/). 


	3. Swords

There were many parts of his life that Toudou Heisuke avoided talking about. Unfortunately, one of them was the sword at his waist: the work of Kazusanosuke Kaneshige, famed swordsmith of Tsu domain. Understanding had dawned in the other Shieikan members’ eyes when he named the sword to them, and he hated that. Perhaps he should have sold the sword; it’d be worth quite a lot. He didn’t _want_  to be known everywhere as the bastard son of the Tsu daimyo.

He also didn’t want to lower himself. This was his only birthright as a descendant of a great samurai clan. However little his old man had cared about him, he’d been given this sword. So he used the Toudou name and kept the sword with him.

It was  _complicated_ , and everyone knew not to press him about it.

Until Saitou Hajime, lover of swords, came to the Shieikan. Saitou hardly even spoke to Heisuke in those first days. But his blank blue eyes lit up with an unexpected fire when he saw Heisuke’s sword and heard its name. He asked politely if he could examine it, and when Heisuke agreed, held it with a reverence that was unnerving.

“It’s  _real_ ,” Saitou whispered.

Was that surprise? That had to be surprise. His face hadn’t changed, but why would he say that if he didn’t think -

“Wait, you thought Heisuke’s sword was a fake?” Souji, who was watching their interaction with interest, expressed exactly what Heisuke had been thinking.

Saitou now was definitely taken aback. “No. I was merely commenting that it is indeed a Kazusanosuke Kaneshige. You can tell from the mark here –“

“Saitou!” Heisuke protested. He wasn’t really offended if Saitou had thought the sword might be a fake. There were plenty of such fakes out there. But he’d pretend to be upset if it helped cut off the discussion of the swordsmith’s background.

Souji was doubled over laughing. “Saitou, you really are something.”

“I did not think Toudou-san was telling a falsehood about the sword’s provenance,” Saitou replied stiffly. He turned to Heisuke. “If I have offended you, I am very sorry. It is a magnificent sword.”

“It’s just a sword,” Souji interrupted before Heisuke could reply to Saitou’s apology. “If it cuts people, it does its job. Doesn’t matter if it’s a fake or not.”

“It is not a fake!” Saitou snapped. “It’s a genuine work of a great master.”

“I wasn’t the one who called it a fake.”

Saitou took a deep breath, as if he was ready to launch into a retort, but then said nothing. He was staring now at Souji as though he were scrutinizing the other man’s face for clues to his intentions. Souji smiled back brightly.

“It’s all right, you two,” Heisuke said quickly. “Saitou, he’s just teasing us. He’s always like this.”

Saitou nodded slowly. “I thought that was the case.”

That sent Souji into another fit of laughter. Saitou ignored him and held out the sword to Heisuke. “Thank you for letting me examine your blade. It was a privilege to handle it.”

“Ah you’re welcome!” Heisuke said quickly. He nearly added  _Anytime you like_  but bit down on his tongue. Under the circumstances, he’d prefer if Saitou kept away from the sword.

“Okita-san isn’t wrong,” Saitou continued. “Kazusanosuke Kaneshige was a great swordsmith  _because_ his swords still cut as well as when he forged them.” A small shy smile appeared on his face. “This sword is fortunate to now have a master who will use it rather than keep it on display, Toudou-san.”

“Thanks,” Heisuke replied, feeling completely flustered by Saitou’s intensity. “Eh, you know you can call me Heisuke.”

Saitou nodded gravely. “Thank you, Heisuke.” That was the cue for more merriment from Souji.

Perhaps Saitou had got the point – unlikely – or perhaps he was just saving his lecture on the sword’s history for another day without Souji’s mocking presence. Whatever the case, they’d avoided that painful subject for now, and Saitou seemed like a good guy. He was strange, but everyone at the Shieikan was a little bit weird, weren’t they? 

Heisuke hoped that Saitou would stick around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do believe that Hakuouki Reimeiroku actually covers how the other Shieikan members reacted to Heisuke’s sword, but it’s not translated anywhere, so here’s my take. There’s also a comedy drama CD where Saitou’s appalled at Heisuke for wrecking it at the Ikedaya.
> 
> Also, historically, Saitou was still going by his original name, Yamaguchi Hajime at this point, but I checked and Hakuouki used Saitou even in the flashbacks, probably to avoid confusion. So I have followed their lead.


	4. Pigs and Pork

In the end, it was fighting with oni in the middle of the night that got the Shinsengumi kicked out of Nishi-Honganji. But the pigs certainly didn’t help. The smell of roast pork wafting through the temple was enough to drive the poor monks mad with disgust (according to the more reverent), or salivating hunger (according to Shinpachi).

“It’s not really fair to them, though,” said Heisuke thoughtfully, after an angry delegation of the monks had departed a meeting with the Shinsengumi executives. “This is  _their_  place, and we’re their guests.” 

It was very like him to try to see the situation from the other side’s point of view. And on this point he probably spoke for plenty of the Shinsengumi members who were silently uneasy about making enemies of holy men. (As well as a few people who were just revolted by the taste and smell of pork.)

Shinpachi was having nothing of it. “They start by taking in Choshu rebels and end up having to share the place with pigs, seems fair to me.”

“Speak for  _yourself_ , Shinpatsuan, we’re not all pigs here!”

“Nah, Heisuke, you’re a piglet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short drabble for this one. The monks really weren't thrilled by Matsumoto's recommendation that the Shinsengumi raise/eat pigs on the property.


	5. The Shinsengumi Code

****

**Setting** _: The twelfth month of 1863, shortly before Yukimura Chizuru arrives in Kyoto._

The first rule of the Shinsengumi Code was to do nothing that went against the warrior’s code of honour. But what was that code of honour? If you asked a hundred samurai, you’d get a hundred answers … well, maybe not a hundred, but a couple dozen, at least. There was enough latitude there to chill the blood of any Shinsengumi member. Everyone had done something that could be interpreted as breaking the code, if that was how the commanders wanted to interpret it.

“We’re just scaring guys into messing up,” said Nagakura Shinpachi bluntly. “Is that what we want?”

The Shinsengumi’s officers were holding a hurried conference to discuss the rash of misdemeanours among the ordinary men. After the purge of Serisawa’s faction, they’d imagined the Shinsengumi men would learn to behave themselves. Instead, the last few months had only benefitted the Fury experiments.

“Of course it’s not what we want, Captain Nagakura,” Sannan replied calmly. “That’s why we have gathered all the captains here, to give us their input.”

“Oh good, here’s my input. This whole set-up stinks.”

“How so?” Sannan always seemed as though he genuinely wished to hear what you had to say. Hijikata, on the other hand, was scowling but kept his silence. Wisely, Kondou seemed to have given Sannan the lead on this conversation.

“Those experiments need warm bodies, don’t they? So, every time a guy screws up, we’re fulfilling a quota.”

There were gasps from the other officers. Harada, who was sitting beside his best friend, shook his head. “That’s over the line, and you know it, Shinpachi.”

“Well that’s the way some of our sponsors see it,” Shinpachi replied. “Isn’t that true?”

“There have been no such orders from Aizu,” Kondou insisted.

“But-“ Shinpachi began to protest.

“Written, spoken _, or_  hinted,” Sannan interrupted him. “In fact, it seems to me very likely that our Aizu superiors are leaning towards dropping this entire project now that Doctor Koudo has vanished.”

“Well that’s good then,” put in Heisuke, obviously relieved. It was his first contribution to the discussion.

“No it isn’t good,” Hijikata snapped. “You guys still don’t get it. We’re here in Kyoto, when all those other ronin were sent packing,  _why_? Because we got in with the Kyoto Protector’s people. But not all the way in. What has the Shinsengumi done for Aizu domain  _other_  than help out with the Fury project? Not much. What did the Roshigumi do to publicly disgrace them? A hell of a lot. If we’re going to impress them, it has to be soon, before they end the experiments.”

Sannan nodded. “Hijikata-kun has aptly summarized the current situation. Under these circumstances, it is _imperative_  that we restore both morale and discipline within the ranks.”

“That’d be nice.” Shinpachi replied curtly.

Harada sighed. “Well, if you brought us here to hash this out, let’s hear from everyone.”

“Guys, Sannan-san obviously has a plan.” Everyone turned towards Okita in surprise. He’d been sitting a little bit away from the others, leaning his back against a post as though he was settling down to nap. “You do, don’t you?” he continued, looking Sannan straight in the eyes.

Sannan smiled. There was a glint in his eyes as he replied. “I do not know if it could be called a plan exactly. But I have a suggestion.”

“Please go ahead,” Kondou told him.

“All men make mistakes. When our men make mistakes, they  stand in fear of us, as Captain Nagakura has rightly pointed out. Their reaction is to hide their mistakes, so that they compound their errors. When at last they are found out, they have gone too far to be given any clemency.”

The captains nodded. His analysis was spot on.

“The Code must stand unaltered,” Sannan continued. “But these are principles for men to aspire to. If they fall short of them, would you not prefer they honestly admit their fault, rather than attempt to hide it? I am suggesting that we stress to our men that dishonesty is how they truly break the Code. Show mercy to men who show us sincerity. Treat severely even the smallest fault that is hidden.”

“So if I feel like going on a killing spree, it’s okay if I tell you all about it right after?” Okita asked with mock seriousness.

Sannan laughed slightly. “Everything in moderation, Okita-kun.”

Kondou now spoke up. “Sannan’s put things clearly, hasn’t he?” He was looking to Hijikata as he spoke.

Hijikata nodded. “Yes, Sannan-san has the right of it. As usual. We do not wish to use the Code as a trap. And we’re certainly not here to supply those experiments with subjects. So, there you go, happy now, Nagakura?”

“You’ve dealt with this fair and square, we’re all happy,” Shinpachi answered warmly. There was a chorus of affirmations from the other captains.

The Shinsengumi drew its strength from its strict principles and its Vice-Commander who enforced them. But it also drew its strength from the gentle cleverness of its Colonel, Sannan Keisuke. With the two of them working together, the Shinsengumi would never depart from the way of the warrior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sannan before his injury, before he drinks the Water of Life, fascinates me so much. He’s a mix of kindness and steel, carefully laying out plans that make the best of other people’s characteristics. And Okita listened to him, which is pretty impressive in itself.
> 
> The code is Hakuouki canon, but [not real life canon.](http://hakuouki-history.tumblr.com/post/133887322504/the-not-so-iron-code-of-the-shinsengumi) ;)


	6. The Ikedaya (Choshuvember)

_Sorry, Shinsengumi. This one is all Katsura’s._

“I came here as a favour to Shiranui.  Otherwise, I have little interest in these proceedings.”

The Kyoto summer had set in with all its heat and humidity. Sweat was pouring down Katsura Kogoro’s brow, but the golden haired man sitting across from him seemed unaffected and untouched by either the weather or the tension in the room. His name was Kazama Chikage, he knew Shiranui Kyou somehow, and he was affiliated with Satsuma. That was all Katsura knew of him, though he had his suspicions. Just as he had of Shiranui.

“Our apologies if you were mislead, but we are in no position to speak for Satsuma domain,” Kazama’s companion Amagiri added.

Katsura shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to do so.” He began to pour the sake for Kazama. “I should have a pretty woman to serve us but under the circumstances, you must bear with my hospitality …”

This was the essence of diplomacy. Never charge straight to the issue. Make pleasant small talk. Listen to what the other side says or does not say. It was not something Shiranui would ever understand. He refused to come out here tonight. But at least he had arranged the meeting.

Kazama sipped the sake. “This is pleasant,” he commented.

“Thank you. I understand that you are a connoisseur.”

“Is that really how he put it?” Kazama’s lips curved into a smirk.

“Perhaps he used the word snob,” Katsura replied lightly. “But Shiranui has accused me of snobbery as well, so I pay it no heed.”

Amagiri chuckled at this. Kazama, however, seemed annoyed. “You’re not the one he’s taken with,” he said suddenly. “But he does like you. Why?”

Katsura was taken aback by this abrupt inquiry. He could have pleaded confusion, but he knew exactly what Kazama meant. Shiranui Kyou had appeared at Takasugi’s side one day. No one knew anything about his origins, and he made it clear he was only hanging around the Choshu shishi for Takasugi’s sake.

“I’d be happy to claim Shiranui’s friendship,” Katsura replied honestly, “but I have suspected that Takasugi asked him to watch over us here in Kyoto for him.”

“Hmmmph. I don’t dislike his loyalty. But he could have found a better use for it,” Kazama replied.

“With Satsuma?” Katsura inquired.

Kazama did not reply. “We have a duty to Satsuma domain,” Amagiri spoke up at last. “If you have a message for the domain’s men, I will make certain it is heard.”

Katsura had been blindsided last year by Satsuma’s alliance with Aizu, and his reputation in Choshu had suffered for it. He still wasn’t sure how he’d missed the signs of such a great shift in power. None of his Satsuma contacts or his Kyoto informers had hinted at the alliance’s possibility.  And since the alliance, no one from Satsuma had been willing to speak with him. This meeting with Shiranui’s Satsuma friends was the most outside of chances. He did not expect much to come of it. But at least there was a chance at communication.

Taking up Amagiri’s promise, Katsura abandoned the small talk to speak his piece about the current political situation. As he spoke, Amagiri listened intently, nodding at points, or asking a question when appropriate. Kazama moved to the window and sat there silently, apparently uninterested in this conversation.

They were discussing the prospect of civil war, and Katsura was assuring Amagiri that he was doing all he could to keep the Choshu millitias away from Kyoto, when a shout pierced the air of the room. There was a crashing sound, then shouts and screaming. “Shinsengumi!” was the only distinguishable word.

Katsura jumped to his feet, then froze. The two Satsuma men had not moved.

“You were waiting for this?” he asked dully.

“Not really,” Kazama replied. “But we had no reason to warn you and your men that we sensed these ronin gathering outside.”

“We will not fight you,” Amagiri said. “This is a matter between your groups.”

“But you detained me here to be cornered by the Shinsengumi,” Katsura said accusingly. His hand was on his sword.

Amagiri shook his head. “We will relay your message to Satsuma. Take care of yourself, Katsura-san.”

There was a crashing sound from the stairs. “Are you going to run or fight?” Kazama asked.

Katsura looked from the door to the window. A loyal samurai would rush down to fight by his companions’ side. A coward would run for his life. But so would a leader who knew his own worth to his cause. If his men died tonight, it would be so he could live.

He sighed. “If I took the window, they’d be on my tail while I’m scrabbling over the tiles.”

“I’ll guard the window then.”

Kazama’s reply was completely unexpected. The man’s disdain for him had been clear, why would he be moved now to help him? But there wasn’t time to figure this out. He swung himself onto the window ledge.

“You’d better thank Shiranui for this,” he heard Kazama’s voice behind him as he pulled himself up onto the roof. “ _Run-away Kogoro.”_

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, later in his life, Katsura Kogoro claimed that he had left the Ikedaya before the Shinsengumi showed up, but there’s a rumour he actually exited the place via the second floor window and got away over the roofs. I’ve always imagined this might have happened in Hakuouki, when you meet Kazama and Amagiri hanging around upstairs, they keep you occupied, and they eventually exit by window. It’s explained that they were there observing the Choshu shishi for Satsuma, but it’s pointed out the Choshu people must have known they were there, so putting two and two together, I think a meeting with Katsura Kogoro would have been quite possible.
> 
> Runaway Kogoro was the scathing nickname given Katsura for his cautious survival tactics when so many of the other Sonnou Joui shishi were charging into battle and dying for their cause. It worked. He survived the Bakumatsu, unlike so many other famous figures of the time.
> 
> Katsura’s self-preservation wouldn’t impress either of the oni, but Takasugi believes in Katsura, Shiranui believes in Takasugi, and Kazama would do this small favour for Shiranui, so it all works out.


	7. The Tokaido

Of all the checkpoints along the Tokaido, the barrier at Hakone was most infamous for its tight security. Traveling with permission from the shogunate, and at a time when the restrictions on travel were being relaxed, the Roshigumi had no issue passing the Tokaido’s barriers. Yet, like most travelers they felt the weight and grandeur of the realm as they climbed the stairs to the checkpoint,  then accompanied by its guards knelt before the building, their travel permits ready for inspection. It was a pageant designed to strike fear and respect in the hearts of travellers.

Most of the Roshigumi had never been outside the Kanto region. They looked to their more experienced fellows for reassurance. Among the men of the Shieikan, Harada Sanosuke and Shimada Kai had come from the provinces and so taken the highways eastward to Edo. Both of them reassured their nervous fellow travelers that there was nothing to fear. Their permits were in order. It would just take a little time for them to be processed, then they could continue.

And that was exactly what would have happened if it hadn’t been for Serizawa Kamo.

The Roshigumi split into groups while traveling, but today Serizawa’s party had joined up with Kondou’s. Serizawa complied with the instructions of the guards, and answered the official’s questions politely, but when the official gave the group the permission to move on, he let out a bark of laughter.

“Is there something funny?” asked the official, his eyes narrowing.

“Is this really Hakone anymore? You’re not even going to check that none of these kids are girls?” Serizawa waved towards the Shieikan party.

The official looked confused. “Are you saying they are  _not_  young men?” he asked Serizawa.

Serizawa shook his head. “Not at all. I’m just surprised how lax the standards have got here. You don’t have to watch out for women leaving Edo without permission anymore, it’s understandable … “

The official looked as though he had bitten into a sour piece of fruit. He turned to the guards. “I don’t think there’s much doubt, but since this man has raised questions …” his eyes rested on the group around Kondou. “Check those two,” he pointed to Heisuke and Souji.

Heisuke’s eyes went wide with disbelief. Souji glared at the approaching guard.

“Open up your kimonos,” the guard ordered, once he’d come to stand before them. They quickly complied.

“No breasts,” the guard announced back to the official.

“Obviously,” replied the official. He turned back to Serizawa. “You would do well to learn some respect. All of you are dismissed.”

Filled with relief, the ronin passed out of the Hakone checkpoint.

“What was that about?” Heisuke rounded on Serizawa as soon as they were out of sight of the checkpoint.

“That was a joke,” the man replied without showing any discomfort.

“Yes, it was very funny,” Souji replied. “I won’t forget how amusing it was, Serizawa-san.”

“BAHAHAHAHA,” Shinpachi destroyed the unity of the Shieikan group by breaking out laughing. “I c-can’t breathe. Heisuke, you really could pass as a girl.”

“You know I couldn’t! They only checked because Serizawa-san insisted!” Heisuke snapped back.

The men with Serizawa were all laughing now.

“It was an inconvenience to our mission,” Hijikata said icily. “They could have chosen to hold us back for showing disrespect for an official.”

“They didn’t do that, did they?” said Serizawa calmly. “They’re relics of an old era, all bark and no bite.”

“Serizawa-san is very wise,”Souji replied. He was smiling but his eyes were still burning. “But I hope he knows that  _my_  teeth are just as sharp as my tongue.”

“Souji, leave it.” Hijikata snapped. “This is not worth a fight.”

Souji shrugged, then turned his back on both Hijikata and Serizawa. “Heisuke, come walk with me.”

There was more laughter from Serizawa’s men.

“Eh?” Heisuke froze as Souji approached him. “I don’t want to stick with you.” He lowered his voice. “They’ll keep teasing us.”

“Show them you don’t care,” Souji replied.

Heisuke nodded. “Okay. That makes sense.”

They walked down the road a bit, trailing a bit after the main group. “Do you really not care?” Heisuke asked quietly.

“Of course I care. But it doesn’t matter.”

“Yeah, I guess it doesn’t. I mean, it was rude of Serizawa, but it was just a bad joke, we weren’t hurt …”

Souji shook his head. “That’s not it at all. I’d be quite happy to cut off his head right now. But I already was. Nothing’s changed.”

“Oh.” Heisuke stopped walking. “Don’t do anything stupid, Souji!”

Souji laughed. “Not yet. Kondou-san still wants him around for some reason.”

“Okay.” Heisuke sighed. “Hey Souji, they just picked us out because we looked the youngest, right? We don’t really look like we could be girls?”

“Me, no. You, absolutely.” Souji replied without giving the question any consideration.

“That’s not nice.”

“You know it’s true, though.”

“Still not nice.”

Unlike Souji, Heisuke had no thoughts of murderous revenge for this incident. Serizawa was a problem for the Roshigumi as a whole; Hijikata and Sannan could figure out how to deal with him. But Shinpachi and Souji – they would pay for their insults today. He’d start with Shinpachi. Wait till he was sleeping, get a bucket of water, and  _payback time_.

A blissful smile appeared on Heisuke’s face as they trudged along the road towards Kyoto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The year before the Roshigumi set off to Kyoto, the system of alternate attendance was ended. No longer were the women of daimyo families required to stay in Edo. As a result, the checkpoints no longer had to worry so much about catching women possibly leaving Edo without permission. That doesn’t mean they stopped doing their inspection job, though. Making sure people were who they claimed to be was serious work at Hakone. 
> 
> All this leaves an obvious question.How did Chizuru walk from Edo to Kyoto on her own without any permission? It’s not unthinkable, she didn’t travel at the height of inspections, she may have taken the easier Nakasendo (does canon ever say?), joined up with pilgrims along the way, and if all else fails she has oni stealth … but everyone just brushes over it, like her journey’s NORMAL, when it’d be a heck of a story.


	8. Sake

_A party to welcome our new recruits_ , that’s what Captain Harada had called it. The Vice-Commander had looked as though he wanted to object, but Kondou-san had immediately given permission. He and Hijikata were too busy to come along, he’d said, but he hoped they’d have fun. And so, Captains Nagakura, Harada, Toudou, and Saitou  had escorted the two young pages off to Shimabara to celebrate.

And it had been fun.  The Shinsengumi captains were brutal taskmasters and trainers, but very entertaining drinkers. Once the party was in full swing, Captain Harada had shown off his seppuku scar, and Souma and Nomura had been appropriately amazed. The conversation seemed wittier the more they drank. There was music performed by talented geisha, and then a regrettable attempt at a duet between Captain Toudou and Captain Nagakura which set the ladies laughing as well.

  


Souma was pacing himself with the sake, as much as was possible with the captains continually filling his cup. He enjoyed drinking with his friends, but he certainly wasn’t a great drinker. The way the Shinsengumi captains drank, he wondered how they’d ever get back to Shinsengumi Headquarters.

In comparison, Nomura hadn’t lasted very long. He was sprawled across the floor, sound asleep. Captain Nagakura was also down, but he’d managed to “fall” with his head on a geisha’s lap, so there was no way he was really passed out, according to Captain Toudou. He and Harada would have dragged Nagakura off, but the geisha shook her head. “Let him rest.”

Yeah, Nagakura was smiling now.  Toudou was right. Well, if the lady liked him . . . Souma turned to his right, where Captain Saitou was sitting. The man had been drinking steadily since they arrived, but he was still sitting as formally as if he were at an official meeting. He nodded at Souma when their eyes met.

“How are you finding the Shinsengumi?” Saitou asked. He spoke  very clearly. What incredible resistance to alcohol, Souma marveled.

“Iss all good,” Souma slurred the words.

“That’s good to hear.” Saitou finished off another cupful. “You’ll find what it means to be a warrior soon.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

“It’s all about swords,” Saitou said earnestly.

“Oh.”

“Not the sword you wear at the side. It’s good if you have a fine sword, of course. But your sword is nothing special. I’ve noticed.”

Souma couldn’t help but feel a bit hurt. Though Saitou wasn’t exactly wrong. “My poor sword,” he muttered.

“We’ll find you a better one,” said Saitou. “That’s not the important thing, though.”

“No?”

“No. The important thing is the sword in your heart. The samurai’s sword.”

“Yeah, soul of the samurai.”

Saitou leaned forward. “Exactly. It’s the iron soul. Do you know what blood is made of? Iron. That’s what the Rangaku doctors say.” ****

Souma looked at his arm. That didn’t sound right to him. When he pushed against his body, it was soft, not hard like iron.

“Are you sure, Saitou-san?”

“Where else would the sword in a samurai’s heart come from?” asked Saitou rhetorically. “You need iron to make a sword.”

It was at this moment that Souma realized that Captain Saitou was completely and utterly sloshed. “Makes sense,” he replied, and closed his eyes. Saitou was still talking. Something about how swords were made.

A voice whispered in his ear. “Sorry we didn’t warn you.” He opened his eyes and turned to see Harada, whose face was plastered with a huge grin. “Never seen Saitou  _look_  drunk, but he won’t remember a thing he’s said tomorrow.”

“I see,” Souma smiled back. “Uh, thanks for bringing us here.”

“No problem, we’re always looking for an excuse to get out from under Hijikata’s thumb.”

A yelp from the other side of the room cut off their conversation. “OWWW, HEISUKE!” Nagakura shouted.

“SANO, SOUMA, HELP ME !”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Hakuouki producer Fujisawa’s[ answers about the characters’ drinking capacities](http://tokio-fujita.livejournal.com/5506.html), specifically this description of Saitou.
>
>> Number one capacity in Shinsengumi. 
>> 
>> Although he looks the same no matter how much he drank, actually he can't remember a thing halfway through. In a way, maybe that's the most troublesome companion in drinking. When he talks to a direction where nobody's there, or seriously replying yet way off beam, please consider him drunk.   
> 


	9. Fire

After the battle, there was the fire. It spread quickly, engulfing a good chunk of central Kyoto, including a southern portion of the Imperial estate. Days later, when the last flames were extinguished, twenty-eight thousand buildings had been destroyed.

  


**A map showing the area of the 1864 fire.**

No one had to point out the irony to Hijikata Toshizo. The Shinsengumi had raided the Ikedaya to thwart rebel plans to set fire to Kyoto. Then the Ikedaya raid had become one of the causes pushing the rebels on to war. It wasn’t the Shinsengumi’s fault that Kyoto had burned, but it seemed as though they had been caught up in the workings of a terrible and unstoppable fate.

Kondou’s face was grey and drawn when he returned from his meeting with Aizu officials the second day after the battle. Hijikata had seen many expressions on his friend’s face: joy, sorrow, worry, fear, but never that look of utter desolation. He rushed towards the other man, “What’ s wrong, Kondou-san?”

Kondou shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong. The fires aren’t spreading any further. Forget about us warriors, Shinmon’s fire brigade are the big heroes in this city.”

“Course they are. They’re from Edo,” said Hijikata, with a local’s pride. “Tell me more inside, though. You’re not looking so well.”

Kondou put his hand to his brow. “Am I not? All this smoke, I suppose … I’ll get a drink of water first. Then I have some things to discuss with you and Sannan. Just the two of you.”

When the three of them were settled privately inside, Kondou began with a piece of good news. The Shinsengumi’s authority was indeed being expanded all the way to Osaka. They’d asked for the increased authority almost as soon as the fighting was over.

Despite these good tidings, Kondou still seemed strangely unsettled. He listened to Sannan’s congratulations, then hung his head.

“You going to tell us what’s wrong now, Kondou-san?” asked Hijikata bluntly.

Kondou looked up. “The prisoners at the Rokkaku were all executed yesterday.”

“ _Fuck_.” Hijikata clenched his fist. “Why?”

“The governor of the prison feared the fire would overtake the prison, and the prisoners would escape. So he had every man dragged into the courtyard and beheaded.”

“Did the fire actually reach the Rokkaku?” asked Sannan.

Kondou shook his head. “No. They were never in danger. He panicked.”

“Or he just wanted to kill a bunch of Choshu bastards for himself,” said Hijikata.

“They were  _prisoners,_  Toshi,” Kondou replied sharply.

“Yeah I know.  _Our_ prisoners.” The prisoners they had taken from the Ikedaya had been locked up there. “That man – Furutaka?”

Kondou nodded.

It was one thing to kill a man in battle. But Furutaka was the man Hijikata had tortured. He’d been desperate to live, so desperate he at last betrayed his companions’ plans and location. And now he was dead, not because he’d been judged for his crimes, not at the hands of the warriors he’d faced, but dead from an incompetent official’s panic or bloodlust.

“ _Fuck,”_  was all Hijikata could say. It would have to be the man’s epitaph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The figures for the number of buildings destroyed in the fire are given in Donald Keene’s biography of Emperor Meiji. This number included a lot of small shrines and temple buildings.
> 
> The massacre at the Rokkaku shocked nearly everyone. The official who perpetrated it was reprimanded at least. Am not certain what his full punishment was, but he certainly wasn’t executed himself. The incident became yet another grudge for the Choshu and allied shishi to hold against their enemies. 
> 
> Shinmon Tatsugoro, the legendary chief of one Edo’s fire brigades was recruited by Hitotsubashi Keiki, aka the future last shogun, Yoshinobu, to bring his brigade to Kyoto as both muscle AND fire protection.


	10. Treachery

Betrayal wasn’t a single event. It didn’t happen to just one side, either. What brought the Shinsengumi to the crossroads of Aburano Koji  was one long chain of betrayals, some of them involving people no one present that evening had ever met. Itou Kashitarou betrayed the Shinsengumi, yes, but to his mind they had betrayed every promise they’d made in recruiting him. The shogunate itself promised the Emperor it was dedicated to expelling the foreigners, then made their own deals with the foreigners.

Itou’s version of events made its own sense, enough to sway Toudou Heisuke into his own greatest act of betrayal. Heisuke knew that Itou was going to frame Harada Sanosuke for the murder of Sakamoto Ryoma. He knew that was wrong. He didn’t do anything to stop it or to warn his friends.

Itou had watched him for any sign of rebellion. If he’d tried to warn the Shinsengumi, he’d probably have been killed.  The fear of death, however, wasn’t enough to stop Toudou Heisuke from doing what he thought was right. Instead, he’d been frozen, standing at a place where all paths led nowhere. What the Shinsengumi was doing was wrong. What Itou was doing was wrong. He paused, and before he knew it, he’d chosen to betray Sano by keeping quiet.

He followed that up by drinking the Water of Life and betraying his own principles, he reflected ruefully.

It was natural that when he returned to life, the relationship between him and Sano would be at least a little awkward. When he woke from his first long nap, he immediately realized that he owed some apologies, though he didn’t know exactly what to say because he still didn’t believe the Shinsengumi had been  _right_.

Sano and Shinpachi were his first visitors that morning.

“Guess we’ve now seen how far you’ll go to show off in front of Chizuru,” Sano greeted him with a twinkle in his eyes.

“There’s nothing like  _dying_  to impress a girl,” Shinpachi agreed. “And now you can play the invalid for a bit while we’re out busting our asses.”

“I’m not an invalid, you  _idiots_!” snapped Heisuke, sitting bolt upright. “I’m super strong now, you know. I’ll thrash you  _both_.”

The other two burst out laughing. “Hey, no personal fights,” Sano wagged his finger at Heisuke. “Have you already forgotten the Code while you were away?”

Heisuke’s face fell. “I … Sano, about what happened …”

Sano cut him off. “None of it’s worth remembering, yeah?”

Heisuke paused for a second, then nodded emphatically. “All right, let’s forget it.”

That was all they said about it. There was no awkwardness, no apologies, no declarations of forgiveness. They’d come last night to the last link in long chain of betrayals, and now they  let go of the chain completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It struck me playing Heisuke’s route that he admits Itou told him about the plan to kill Sakamoto and frame Harada, and that he hadn’t thought it was right, but hadn’t stopped it. I’m sure Heisuke would have protested it, but he definitely feels some guilt for not having really fought against Itou. 
> 
> I also think the baka trio after Aburano Koji can’t really talk everything out, because some things are unresolvable. Every reason Heisuke left the Shinengumi is still valid, but now he’s tied to the Shinsengumi, and his continued existence is a result of the experiments he hated in the first place. Meanwhile, Shinpachi and, to a certain extent, Harada, aren’t happy with that either, but do want Heisuke alive. With all these painful contradictions, they just choose to move past them.


	11. Espionage

**1817 sketch by Hokusai**

It’s said that Hijikata Toshizo dreamed since childhood of becoming a great samurai. Yamazaki Susumu,  in contrast, was going to be a ninja. The dream was born from a puppet play that Susumu watched around the age of four. He couldn’t recall the play itself, but his family told him that from that moment on, he had been obsessed with ninja stories. One of his earliest memories was being scolded for having poked holes in all the household screens to make ninja “spyholes.” 

He didn’t give up on his dream as he grew. When he was seven, he fell off the roof of his neighbours’ house while practicing the ninja arts and broke his arm. The pain was bad. Having to explain to the neighbours why he was there in the first place was worse.

His family went from being amused at his creativity to being deeply worried about his obsession. The adults in his life insisted that the ninja in storybooks weren’t real. There were no glamorous practitioners of near magical arts. Instead, there were spies and informers doing grubby, dishonourable work for their masters.

 At first, he refused to believe this. After all, what would his  _parents_ know about real ninjas? But as he grew up, he came to realize the adults were right. So, he settled down to learn his father’s trade, training in acupuncture and medicine-making. As far as anyone else knew, he’d left his ambition to become a ninja behind in childhood, where it was supposed to stay.

Then one day, a group of Edo ronin calling themselves the Roshigumi came to Osaka. They were looking for local men to join their ranks. Yamazaki answered the call.

“So you want to be a samurai?” the man named Hijikata asked him on their first meeting.

Yamazaki said yes, he did. He listened carefully as Hijikata laid out the challenges he hoped Yamazaki could aid them with. As a local, he could better gather intelligence for the Roshigumi. He had no history with the other men, so he would be impartial in watching their behavior.

A smile lit up his face when he finally realized. The Roshigumi didn’t want another samurai, really. What they wanted was a  _ninja_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yamazaki in Hakuouki is so into the ninja stuff, way more than his actual job requires. I can only think he always wanted to be one and is living his dream. YAMAZAKI STYLE TATAMI FLIPPP!


	12. Tuberculosis

**page from Shinkyu bassui taisei [ Complete Essentials of Acupuncture and Moxibustion] by Okomato Ippo, 1699.**

“This won’t work, you know.” Okita only raised this objection after he was already lying on his stomach, waiting for Yamazaki to apply the moxa to his back.

Yamazaki frowned at his patient. “Why are you doing this if you think that?” he demanded.

“To make Kondou-san happy,” Okita responded. “I don’t want him worrying that he could do something for me, but didn’t. So, go ahead, start burning.”

“Lie still. You shouldn’t discount it, Okita-san. Moxa’s been used in China for thousands of years.“ He carefully placed a small cone formed from the herb near a meridian point on Okita’s back. “It wouldn’t have been used so long if it didn’t help people, would it?”

“Tell that to Doctor Matsumoto.”

“Doctor Matsumoto knows a lot  …” Yamazaki carefully chose his words as he continued to place the cones. “But he doesn’t know everything. The medicine he gave you isn’t helping either, so . . . “

“So why not try this? Yeah.”

Yamazaki wasn’t confident the process would help either. But, just as Okita had said, why not? Yamazaki had learnt how to do this from his acupuncturist father, his father had learnt from his father before him, and so on up the Yamazaki family tree. There had to be some benefit to it. Yamazaki had seen people recover remarkably after undergoing moxibustion. None of them, though, had tuberculosis, and although no one here spoke the word, they all knew by now that was what Okita was sick from.

Matsumoto’s Western medicine could diagnose the disease, but his treatments weren’t helping. They might as well try Eastern medicine. He carefully lit the cones of moxa one by one. The pungent smell of the burning herb began to fill the room.

Okita didn’t flinch when the flame reached his skin. Some patients yelped at the pain, others moaned or at least took a deep breath to steady themselves through the burning. If the ancient Chinese doctors were right about this whole business, warming the meridian points helped release obstructed qi. The short term pain made one healthier in the long term.

When the small points of moxa had finished burning, he examined Okita’s back. The burn marks were livid. They’d be coming up in blisters, as they should.

“Are you okay, Okita-san?”

Okita turning his head to his side, gave him a peevish look. “I will drink the entire bottle of Matsumoto’s medicine before I let you near me with an open flame ever again.”

“I hope it gives you some relief,” said Yamazaki diplomatically.

“Who thought this up? Oh, you can’t stop coughing, why not burn your flesh?  You’ve got the measles, burn your flesh. You’re constipated, burn your flesh. What sort of  _maniac_  thought that one up?” This was typical Okita. Go along with orders, but then complain like crazy. “It’s an Ancient Chinese torture method, that’s what it is.”

“It’s not –“ Yamazaki bit his tongue. He should know better than to react to Okita’s rants.

“You can tell Kondou-san you tried your best,” Okita added. “Don’t tell him I complained about it hurting, though. He’d feel bad about it.”

“I’ll tell him the truth. That you didn’t even wince,” Yamazaki assured.

A small smile crept onto Okita’s face. “Yeah, tell him that. He should know I’m tough. I won’t let this disease kick my ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moxibustion was a very popular medical treatment in the Edo Period for practically everything. As the son of an acupuncturist, Yamazaki would have known all about it. The new Dutch-style doctors like Matsumoto didn’t believe in all that, but with a disease as intractable as tuberculosis, people reached for every possible cure.
> 
> Moxa is a variety of the plant called mugwort in English. I looked up what burning moxa smelt like for this ficlet, and everyone said, like pot. Well, unfortunately, I couldn’t use that vivid description, since I also looked up cannabis in Japanese history recently, and there’s no historical record of people smoking it in the Edo Period. It’s possible some people did, but then they’d think hey, that smells like burning moxa, not hey, moxa smells like weed. 
> 
> So that’s why I’m just sharing this great fact with you in the notes instead of the story itself. Now you know.


	13. A View from the Other Side (Choshuvember)

Shiranui Kyou was never still for more than a minute. Even inside a house, he would pace around like a caged lion while talking. If he  _was_  sitting at supper or while drinking, he’d still move about, leaning on first one arm and then other, or lying down when least appropriate. Yet now he knelt quietly by Takasugi’s futon, a position he’d held for hours.

He was keeping watch at a deathbed.

“Are you still there?” Takasugi’s voice was low and difficult to distinguish. The man’s eyes were still completely shut.

Shiranui leaned forward. “Yeah, you can’t get rid of me.”

“Oh.” There was a long pause. In the old days, Takasugi would have come back with a sharp reply. They’d traded insults and jokes all the time. Now there was only the sound of laboured breathing.

“Are you going to go back to Kyoto?”  Takasugi suddenly spoke up, just as Shiranui had decided he’d probably fallen asleep.

“Certainly not. I told you I’m stuck here with you.”

“After I’m dead, will you?”

“Damn you,” Shiranui growled. “I’m really going to miss you.”

“Good. I don’t want to be forgotten. I wish I could stay and hear how it all turned out.”

“Your guys will thrash the shogunate. Promise.”

“For sure, but also, will Kazama get the girl?”

That dry bit of humour caught Shiranui unawares. He rocked back and forth trying to suppress a burst of laughter entirely unfit for a sickroom. “Do you think he should?” he asked Takasugi.

“Poor girl. I don’t know which is worse. Living with the Shinsengumi or living in  _Satsuma_.”

The conversation seemed to be invigorating Takasugi. His eyes fluttered open.  Shiranui realized he could rally again. He’d been pushing back death a day at a time since early winter. No one had expected him to make it to spring, but here he was.

“Well, whatever happens, I get to fight with some of those Shinsengumi guys. It’s a win-win situation,” said Shiranui.

“You don’t hate them.” Takaugi’s voice had turned flat.

“I only hate cowards, remember?”

Takasugi said nothing.

“You think I should hate them? For your old friends’ sake?” Shiranui also had known some of the men struck down at the Ikedaya or elsewhere, but they’d been Takasugi’s _friends_ , not his.

“No. I wish I could feel like you. I wish I wasn’t burning up with hate. I can’t stand the fact that they’re alive, any of them are alive, and I’m never going to personally wipe them out for what they did. Even if they’re the noblest warriors ever, I can’t _not_  hate them.”

That blazing hatred, so foreign to Shiranui’s own heart, was what pulled him to Takasugi’s side. It was a fire burning out of control, fueled by love and loss.

He reached out and rested his hand against Takasugi’s cheek. It was deathly cold. “At least you let me warm up by your fire.”

“Flatterer.” He closed his eyes again. “Your hand is warm. It’s nice.”

Despite the opinion of his companions, Shiranui could stay  _very_ still on occasions. His hand rested against his friend’s cheek as the latter dropped into a fitful sleep.

**_Takasugi Shinsaku’s tomb, Shimonoseki._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that ended up not really being about the Shinsengumi at all. My heart hurts so much for Shiranui in Hakuouki. He’s absolutely broken-hearted when he talks about losing Takasugi to Harada. (Needless to say, I’m broken-hearted over Takasugi as well.)


	14. Kids in Kyoto

**Boys’ play, by Hiroshige, circa 1830**

“Hey, Yukimura-senpai, there are a bunch of kids here looking for Captain Okita.”

Chizuru, who had been cutting vegetables for dinner, looked towards the door where Souma Kazue was standing. He looked flustered.

“I’m not a kid, I’m fifteen!” she heard a young voice protest.

”Sorry, a bunch of kids and … errr …  a young man.”

Putting down her knife, Chizuru went to the door. She was already quite certain who these children would be, but when she stepped outside, her jaw dropped.

“Tamesaburo!” she greeted the tallest of the group. Yagi Tamesaburo, the oldest of the Yagi family’s children, was exactly the person she was expecting, but that he would be so tall … It shouldn’t be strange that kids grew but … “You’re taller than me!”

“Yukimura-san!” the boy was similarly staring at her. “You haven’t grown at all?”

“Hey, show some respect,” growled Souma.

“It’s okay,” Chizuru said quickly. “Souma, this is Yagi Tamesaburo. We stayed at his family’s house in Mibu our first couple years in Kyoto.”

Tamesaburo nodded. “I’ve brought the whole neighbourhood.” He motioned around to the group of about fifteen girls and boys, ranging from children nearly his age to babies on their sisters’ backs.

“That’s very nice of you,” began Chizuru uncertainly. “You came to see Captain Okita?”

“Souji hasn’t come seen us since  _forever_ ,” a younger boy complained.

Back in Mibu village, Okita had always been playing with the neighbourhood kids. He was a great favourite there, and the Yagi children especially had been devastated when the Shinsengumi moved its Headquarters to Nishi-Honganji. It wasn’t very far from Mibu to the temple, though. On a regular basis the kids would march over to find their playmate or Okita would go to them.

Yet, as Okita’s health deteriorated, the visits slowed. They’d diplomatically told the children Okita was busy. It’d now been more than a year since Chizuru saw any of this bunch. As far as she knew, this was the first time they’d come out to their new headquarters in Fududo Village, a mile and a half away from Mibu.

“I thought maybe it’d be easier for us to visit now you have your own place?” Tamesaburo began in a pleading tone. “I know the monks didn’t like you being there. They probably didn’t want kids all over the place either, right?”

Chizuru sighed. “It’s nice you kids came out but Captain Okita has a really bad cold today. He’s got to stay inside and sleep it off.”

“Just tell him we’re here!” demanded another boy, whom she thought might be the Yagi’s younger son.

“SOU-JI! SOU-JI! “ one child began it and the rest joined in. “SOU-JI. SOU-JI.” They stamped their feet in time to their chant. Souma’s attempts to hush them were completely useless.

Tamesaburo, however, stood aside from the group. “I’m sorry,” he said to Chizuru in a hushed tone. “It’s true then …”

“What’s true?” she asked.

“People say Souji’s really sick. I didn’t want to believe that.”

Of course the rumours would be spreading through Kyoto. The Shinsengumi’s First Captain was never seen on patrol now. So Tamesaburo had come to prove to himself that Souji was the same happy friend from their Mibu days.

“Okita-san is not feeling well right now, but you should know he’s fighting to get better,” she told Tamesaburo.

“And those kids yelling are probably giving him a head-ache,” Souma added.

Tamesaburo jumped into action. “YOU KIDS, SHUT UP. SOUJI’S TRYING TO SLEEP!”

The kids shut up immediately.

“We’ll come back when Souji’s feeling better,” he told his band of followers.

“But-“ one girl complained, but Tamesaburo shut her up. “The Shinsengumi will cut off your heads if you give Souji a headache.”

The eyes of the smaller children widened in fear at this pronouncement. “No we won’t,” Chizuru assured them.

“Are you sure?” a familiar, high-pitched voice replied behind her. “I heard I might have to chop off some heads here.”

She turned around and saw Okita. He was pale as snow, and still in his thin sleeping yukata, though he’d slipped geta on his feet and thrown on his haori.

The kids roared his name and rushed towards him, but he held out his hand for them to stop. They knew him well enough to obey.  “Come a step closer and I really will kill you,” he told the kids, smiling broadly.

“But Souji, where’s your sword?” one of the boys demanded.

“You think I can’t kill you without a sword, brat?” He turned now to Tamesaburo. “Hmmm… you think you’re all grown up now, don’t you?”

Tamesaburo’s cheeks flushed deep crimson. “I know I’m not an adult … But I’m almost as old as Yukimura was when he joined the Shinsengumi, right?”

Okita began to laugh, but straightaway his laughter turned to coughing, and Souma rushed to support him. When he’d finished his coughing fit, he looked back at Tamesaburo with a more serious expression. “Your mom and dad need you. The Shinsengumi doesn’t.”

“That’s what  _you_  think,” said Tamesaburo stubbornly.

“That’s what Kondou-san thinks. And if you really must ask, Hijikata will yell at you a bit before he sends you packing. We’re grateful to your family for taking us in, we’re not going to repay them by stealing away their oldest son.”

“But I just want to be with all of you,” Tamesaburo pleaded.

Okita shook his head. “Not your choice, kid. Do you think we all have parents like yours? Parents who love you and can give you everything you need? Don’t mess that up.”

Tamesaburo stared at Okita.  _Realization at last_ , Chizuru thought. Tamesaburo had doubtless never imagined that the young samurai whose life he envied could envy Tamesaburo’s life in turn. Chizuru knew little about Okita’s family, but she knew his parents were dead, that he had an older sister in Edo, and that he had lived at Kondou’s dojo for many years.

“If you just come by yourself, don’t bring this whole gang, I wouldn’t mind if you dropped by to chat sometimes,” Okita continued in a softer voice.

Tamesaburo’s voice cracked, “Yes, Souji, I’ll come!”

Okita nodded, then turned his attention back to the crowd of waiting children. “What a pain. Chizuru, you’ll get them some treats, right?”

“Uh… I’ll have to look what we have.”

“You’ll manage. Hey kids!” he called them to attention. “You heard me coughing, I have a cold and I’m going right back to bed. But this guy here, this is Souma-kun. He’s my deputy and he’s going to organize a game of tag.”

Souma looked surprised, but he immediately took up his role. “All right, we’re going to play tag! Who’s going to be the oni?”

“Yukimura,” Okita answered promptly. His eyes were dancing with mischief. Chizuru glared at him, but she could say nothing In front of the kids.

“Yukimura-senpai’s getting the snacks ready,” Souma replied, coming to her rescue as he always did.

“All right. Have fun. See you later, Tamesaburo.” Okita nodded to the teenager. He turned and slowly walked off towards his room. Tamesaburo stood still watching him leave, while around him, the other children threw themselves into a frenzied game of tag.

“You’re the oni now!” a kid shrieked as he tagged Tamesaburo on the back. Tamesaburo whirled around. He was grinning as he began to give chase.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About sixty years later, Yagi Tamesaburo fondly remembered his days living with the Shinsengumi, particularly playing with Okita Souji. He was twelve the year of the Ikedaya. 
> 
> The role of “it” in Japanese tag is called the oni. So I couldn’t resist trolling poor Chizuru via Souji.


	15. Seppuku

When you joined the Shinsengumi, you received a blue haori, committed the code to memory, and at last, were told Captain Harada’s seppuku story. If you went drinking with him and Captain Nagakura, he’d eventually tell it himself. Otherwise, the old hands told it to the new recruits in hushed tones.

The story went like this. Several years ago, in Harada’s youth, he’d got into a nasty argument with some samurai who looked down on his family status. The Harada family were rural footsoldiers, a step down from “proper” samurai, and these bullies said he couldn’t behave like a proper samurai. The hotheaded young Harada had shown them up by cutting open his stomach in the samurai fashion. He still had a huge scar across his stomach as a result of his seppuku attempt.

No one who heard the story or saw the scar was ever left unimpressed. That was, no one until Miki Saburo joined the Shinsengumi.

“So were they right?” asked after hearing the entire story over drinks.

“Huh?”

“You’re still around, aren’t you?” Miki shrugged.

You could have heard a pin drop in that room. Everyone was looking at Harada, waiting for him to respond.

“Aren’t you the clever one?” replied Harada. “I cut open my stomach.  _They_  didn’t follow through and cut my head off.” Harada didn’t immediately jump into confrontations anymore, but neither did he let insults pass. There was a glint in his eye now that belied his casual tone. “You got something  to say, Miki?”

Miki, however, laughed. “Definitely not.   You’re way too scary, Harada-san.”

“Smart choice.”

For many of those present, this was perhaps the first indication that Miki Saburo was a complete ass. It was not, however, to be the last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote[a long serious fanfic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12609316) about seppuku in the Shinsengumi, so here’s a silly bit. I let Miki voice a disrespectful thought I’ve always had about Harada’s attempted seppuku. Really proved your point that you knew how to commit seppuku, huh? Miki’s a good one to say the awful things.


	16. Family Back Home

“I think there’s something wrong with Hijikata today,” Nagakura commented to the other captains over lunch. “He was going through the expense accounts and  _smiling_.”

“The expense accounts must be in order then,” said Saitou. Nagakura was exaggerating, surely. Saitou could call to mind many occasions on which the Vice-Commander had been smiling.

Souji snorted. “Sorry, Hajime, wrong guess. I’ll tell you why he’s smiling. He got a letter from his brother-in-law this morning.”

Shinpachi nodded. Everyone here knew Sato Hikogorou, one of the Shinsengumi’s most loyal sponsors. He had donated a great deal of money to his brother-in-law’s organization, money they’d desperately needed in the days before they were given recognition by their superiors. Saitou had never met the man, but he had great respect for him. It was Sato, he knew, who had introduced Kondou to young Hijikata. And Sato’s wife Toku was Hijikata’s beloved older sister.

“Hikogorou wrote that his daughter Nami gave birth to a healthy boy,” Souji continued.

“Oho! That’s wonderful!” Nakagura replied. “That’s their first grandkid, isn’t it?”

Souji nodded. “It makes you think though …”

“Think what?”

“Well, if Toku’s a grandmother now, that means Hijikata-san is a  _great-uncle_.”

Saitou didn’t find anything amusing about this fact, but most of the captains laughed. Heisuke spat out the mouthful of food he was chewing.

“Well, that’s revolting,” said Nagakura.

“I was going to choke!” Heisuke’s face was turning red. “Old Man Hijikata!” He burst out laughing again.

“The Vice-Commander is a few years younger than his sister, is he not?” asked Saitou. “And one does not have to be _that_  old to become a grandmother.”

“Good  job we have Saitou to defend the Vice-Commander against the charge of being  _old_ ,” teased Nagakura.

“Thirty is not young, but I would not call it old.” Saitou ignored Shinpachi’s jibe. “I am going to go congratulate Hijikata-san.”

Saitou found Hijikata sitting at his writing desk with long scroll laid out before him. He was readying his brushes. When Saitou offered his congratulations, his face lit up with a rare soft smile.  

“The baby’s mother - I was twelve when she was born. My sister’s first child,” he told Saitou. “I carried that little girl around whenever the women  _let_  me. And now she’s got her own little one. I’m writing some verses to wish the boy good fortune.”

“I think they will be very glad to receive that from you,” Saitou replied.  

“Yes, also Toku would probably send someone to remind me if I  _didn’t_  send something special. Hmmm, Saitou, what about you? Do you ever hear from your family?”

Saitou froze. Hijikata was the only person in the Shinsengumi to whom he had confessed the entire terrible story of his flight from Edo. In turn, Hijikata had never pressed him for more details or asked him further about his past. “Vice-commander, you know why and how I left Edo,” he said slowly.

Hijikata nodded. “Yes. It’s been three years. The case has been smoothed over. It might not be wise to return to Edo, but you could at least write to them.”

Saitou considered this. He could. Perhaps they would be happy to hear that he was doing well for himself in Kyoto. They had not deserved his neglect. His parents had not understood his determination to be a warrior on his own terms, but they had not blocked his path. He gratefully remembered his father telling his older siblings to leave off trying to correct his left-handed stance. His father hadn’t approved of his younger son’s stubborn behaviour, but he’d tolerated it.  

“I do not want to cause them further trouble,” he told Hijikata. “There is a risk that case could be stirred up again if others caught wind of my letter.”

Hijikata sighed. “If that is your decision …”

“Perhaps, in a couple more years, I will feel free to write,” Saitou tried to reassure him.  It felt as though the Vice-Commander was the one he was letting down, not his own family. And that felt terrible. But it was the right decision for him. “Please continue with your calligraphy. I should like to watch, if I may.”

Hijikata brightened up again. “This will be the first rough copy. I would be grateful for your input. One day, this little boy will be a warrior himself, and I hope he’ll cherish my wishes, whether I’m alive or not.”

“He will,” Saitou replied quickly. “I’m certain of that.”

_The poem Hijikata sent for the baby._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I’d give to have a translation of the poem Hijikata wrote for his grand-nephew. If you read Japanese, [this webpage](http://tadashinsengumi.blog.shinobi.jp/%E5%9C%9F%E6%96%B9%E6%AD%B3%E4%B8%89/%E5%9C%9F%E6%96%B9%E6%AD%B3%E4%B8%89%E3%81%8C%E5%BD%A6%E4%BA%94%E9%83%8E%E3%81%AE%E5%88%9D%E5%AD%AB%E3%81%AB%E8%B4%88%E3%81%A3%E3%81%9F%E7%A5%9D%E5%8F%A5) gives the details of the poem, which is now at the Sato family’s museum.
> 
> After first publishing this piece on tumblr, **csilla-nocturine** drew my attention to a bit of name weirdness. Hijikata’s sister is listed in most references as _Nobu_ , but mentioned in Hakuouki Reimeiroku as _Toku_. A bit of preliminary digging shows me that she went by both, as well as by a childhood name, Ran, though when or to whom or why I have no idea. The Hakuouki nerd writers probably know what they’re up to and I’m writing in Hakuouki, so I’ve used Toku in the end here.
> 
> Sato Hikogorou was Hijikata Toshizo and Toku’s first cousin. Hikogorou and Toku’s eldest daughter Nami married another Hijikata relative, a member of the Hashimoto family. I’m not sure how they were related but the Hashimoto were the relatives whom young Toshizo famously visited, and liking their takuwan so much, took home a whole bucket of the stuff. These families intermarried over and over again! Both Toku and Nami were in their late teens when they had their first child, so Toku was only 34 when she became a grandmother.
> 
> As for Saitou, I don’t think we know whether he was in contact with his family at this point in his life, but later on, when he was living in Tokyo as Fujita Goro, it’s documented that he was. The left handed swordsman story is probably fictional, but since it’s used in Hakuouki, I have to think he must have in-story had parents who tolerated it to some extent.


	17. Tenchu! (Choshuvember)

**Shimonoseki, anonymous early Meiji era photograph from the[Bauduin collection](http://oldphoto.lb.nagasaki-u.ac.jp/bauduins/en/record.php?mokuroku=6659).**

Dusk. A lonely beach along the Shimonoseki Strait. A small group of armed men slowly made their way across the pebbles and sand to where a lone figure was standing, watching the tide come in. It was not a quiet advance – their quarry had certainly heard them. But he paid them no heed. He was a brave man, and a proud one.

“Takasugi Shinsaku!” one of them called out.

At last, the man turned to face his pursuers. “Yes?”

Their leader took a step forward. “You must know why we are here.”

Takasugi’s mouth curved into an ugly smile. “I have a good idea.”

“You have deceived your lord, betrayed your fellow warriors, and at last given over this country to the barbarians. No punishment on earth can wipe away the stain of your sins.” The man spoke slowly and solemnly, delivering what was clearly a heavily-rehearsed speech. “We true loyalists to the Chrysanthemum Throne shall now exact Divine Punish-“

There was a flash of silver. A tall dark figure with flowing long hair had moved in so quickly he appeared to have materialized out of thin air, and the true loyalist was discovering the impossibility of speaking with the barrel of a pistol in his mouth.

“I’m here to exact Hell’s Punishment!” the newcomer announced. His victim had frozen still. The other men fell back a few steps.

“Shiranui Kyou!” one of them gasped.

“Hey, I saved your sorry ass in Kyoto!” Shiranui called out to the man who’d spoken. “Guess I won’t make that mistake again. Well, Takasugi-kun, is there any reason I  _shouldn’t_ blow this coward’s brains out?” He gestured to the man at the other end of his gun.

“We’ve already lost enough fighters,” Takasugi replied. “Let him live. If he _chooses_  to.”

Shiranui shrugged, then withdrawing his pistol from the man’s bleeding mouth, picked him up by the collar of his kimono and held him dangling above the sand. “What do you choose?”

“D-don’t – ack – LIFE!”

Shiranui threw the man to the ground. “How about the rest of you?” he asked. “Anyone want to go a round against my gun?”

“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT THE BARBARIANS, NOT SURRENDER TO THEM!” one of the men cried out.  

Takasugi began to laugh. “Do you think I don’t know that?” he asked. “We bought this war, we bound ourselves to fight it.”

“But you-“

“Who are you to order me around?” Takasugi demanded. “Most of you aren’t even Choshu men. You came running to us with your tails between your legs, and this is how you treat an official envoy of the House of Mori? You  _know_  I was carrying out my lord’s orders to make peace. And if you weren’t idiots, you’d also know we need more guns, ships, and trained troops to fight off the barbarians.”

There was a long silence. Some of the men glared at Takasugi, but most eyes were on Shiranui’s gun. They weren’t actually cowards.  With an ordinary opponent, they would have fought back. But they’d  _seen_ Shiranui in action before.

“I’m letting you go,” Takasugi said at last. “You have ten seconds to get out of here.”

The men scrambled up the beach as fast as their legs could take them. Shiranui left off counting the seconds at seven and began shooting.

“Stop wasting our bullets,” said Takasugi when Shiranui paused a second to reload his pistol. Shiranui’s shots had all “missed” the fleeing men by very narrow margins.

“Stop complaining, shrimp. You don’t get to tell me how to save your life.”

“I  _did_  tell you how to save my life. Have you already forgotten this was my plan?”

“You can see I improved it.”

Takasugi grinned. “You’d better wash the slobber off my poor pistol.”

“Don’t doubt me. This gun’s the love of my life.”

“Well if you can’t get the girls …”

They settled into their usual comfortable banter as they began their long walk back towards the town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one wasn’t about the Shinsengumi at all, though it is Hakuouki with Shiranui Kyou in the picture. I actually meant to write about the Shinsengumi’s pov on something else, got completely sucked down the research rabbit hole, and at last realized I had to put the idea aside until I learnt more. The original idea may one day be a full-length fic.
> 
> So, _Tenchu_ = “divine punishment”. It was the word used by the Sonnou Joui patriots for their assassinations. In a weird twist of fate, some of the Choshu shishi went from planning/supporting tenchu killings to having to evade them. 
> 
> The specific context of this ficlet. In 1863, Choshu domain fired on foreign ships using the Shimonoseki strait. In 1864, a French-British-Dutch-American navy coalition easily destroyed and dismantled Choshu’s coastal fortifications and batteries, and Choshu had no choice but to sue for peace. The domain appointed Takasugi Shinsaku to lead the peace negotiations. As a military commander, he wasn’t happy about the job. He complained that although they’d been stupid to start such an unwinnable war, they were now committed to it, and should continue to fight. The Choshu domain elders ignored his opinion, and at last he agreed to obey his orders.(You can read all about the hilarious negotiations [here](http://hakuouki-history.tumblr.com/post/159620605699/takasugi-the-peacemaker).)
> 
> As a result, he and his companions were immediately targeted for assassination by radical members of the Choshu militia. As mentioned in the fic, a lot of the militia members were ronin from other domains, whom the Choshu officials struggled to control. Takasugi escaped a threatened attack. However, the negotiators’ English-Japanese interpreter, Inoue Kaoru, was ambushed and nearly cut to pieces by angry samurai. Unexpectedly, Inoue survived his wounds, became an influential Meiji statesman and lived till 1915.
> 
> In real life, Takasugi bought a pair of Smith and Wesson pistols in Shanghai, one of which he gave to Sakamoto Ryoma as a present. In Hakuouki, it can be guessed that Takasugi is the source of Shiranui’s pistol. (Completely incidentally, but I’ve just always found this interesting: in fiction, Sakamoto is usually portrayed with his pistol years before Takasugi actually gave it to him. Takasugi gave Sakamoto the pistol mid 1866 during the Second Choshu Expedition/Summer War ie. The year before they both died.)


End file.
